The Sweet Sixteen Catastrophe
by Chrys-DASL
Summary: Jane wants the best for her children, and the best just happens to be a sweet sixteen party for DW. When she shows her spoiled side, will that be the end of the party? For my 10x10 Challenge/NaNo2018


Jane: 2 (prepare for a major event or holiday)

 _The Sweet Sixteen Catastrophe_

Boys weren't as complicated as girls. Boys wanted simple things, things they could eventually mumble in not so many words to express their needs. Nothing they wanted was ever too much, and if it was, they were easily manipulated into stepping down. You give them a goal for that thing and they can still keep it.

Girls? Girls are complicated.

Arthur wanted a small get-together at the park for his sixteenth birthday. We were allowed twenty-five people at the veranda they picked for us, so he could pick eighteen friends total. This was fine with him. He didn't try to tell us Grandma Thora and her boyfriend couldn't come because it's "creepy and weird and they're going to make out all over my cake." No, he picked seventeen people, giving us one extra spot unless anyone else showed up, which is what happened when one of the girls just had to bring a date. See, even then the girls had to be more complicated than the boys. But it worked out.

This one, for DW? It's going to be the end of me. I received a scrapbook, a complete scrapbook, that DW started with Emily way back when they were still friends, so…maybe when they were seven and had summer camp together? Well unlike most kids, she didn't abandon the idea. When she gets older, it'll be a nice hobby for her. For me right now, in this moment, it's a nightmare. She wants things that I didn't know existed, and I know that nothing I do will be good enough for her.

"Jane?" David called. I looked up from the magazine I was looking through to see David standing in the doorway, his face covered in stubble. He was in his pajamas and had clearly been asleep for a while when he realized I wasn't there.

I turned to the clock and sighed softly, "I'm so sorry dear. I've got to do what we can—"

"There's a budget. She gets five hundred just like Arthur unless she gives us the money herself. That's final," he said firmly, leaning against the doorframe, "She's not accepting that, is she?"

"The horseback riding alone is three-fifty," I sighed, looking up to him, "What do you think I should do? Should I force her to get what we give her and watch her have an epic meltdown in front of her friends, or do we try to please her and fail anyway and STILL have to watch her have an epic meltdown in front of her friends?"

"I know it's hard, but maybe it's time they saw the real DW—"

"They get that every day. When even the Tibble twins call you a spoiled brat, you're a spoiled brat. David, we did that to her," I whimpered. I wiped away tears that I didn't know were falling and closed the magazine, "I'm coming to bed."

"I didn't mean to upset—"

"You didn't upset me. I'm just so exhausted from planning this whole thing out, but you're not wrong, David. I'm telling her tomorrow."

* * *

"You're what?!" DW exclaimed

I knew it would come to this.

"I am not catering to whatever this is," I said, handing back her scrapbook only to have it knocked out of my hands, "Unless you provide some of your own money, that's not happening. Period. You would need a professional, and neither—"

"But Daddy is a professional!"

"I make food," David laughed, "You're acting like you've never been to one of my events. If you need money, there's a wedding—"

DW's shriek filled the house. Arthur, used to the madness, continued to chomp his cereal as if he were on another planet. Kate descended the stairs with a stomping sound, a clear sign that she was descending two-by-two. She snatched an apple and got out as fast as she could. I almost followed her.

"NO! NO! NO! IT HAS TO BE THE WAY I SAID, THE WAY IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE OR I WON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS! I WON'T HAVE THE BEST PARTY! I—"

"UNTIL YOU CAN TALK IN A MORE CIVIL TONE, this conversation is over!" I yelled over her. With a humph, she fled the room.

"It won't work," Arthur said flatly, standing and taking his empty cereal bowl to the sink. He shook his head, "They already know she's a brat. They know and they're only friends with her for the show she brings," he said, grabbing his bag, "I've got pizza tonight. Don't know when I'll be home."

"Be safe," I said, turning to David when he was gone, "What did we do wrong?"

"Some people are forces of nature. Now you know where they come from," he shrugged.

I sighed, "That doesn't help though. What are we supposed to do with her?"

"I don't have the slightest idea, but we've got three weeks to figure it out. At this point…we cut her off if she doesn't get more civil. She can throw her own damn party," David huffed.

I exhaled slowly, "Do you really think she'll fall for that? I mean, she'll spend every waking moment trying to convince us otherwise—"

"And we'll tell her No, No, and NO, to anything she suggests. It's not going to be easy and I'm not trying to say that. I'm saying we've got to do something or she's going to destroy this entire house," David said, drying his hands, "Speaking of the wedding, I've got the rehearsal dinner tonight. Kate has band practice until, what, four o'clock? If she's home in time, do it when no one else is here. Do whatever you've got to do. I'll back you up."

"So this is what running a war is like?"

David laughed, "Certainly seems that way, huh?"

With that, he left me with the problem, but I knew he only did it because he wasn't strong enough. David could never deal with either girl, not until it was the final hour, and this time was no different.

* * *

DW entered the house at three-thirty, and I greeted her in the living room. She immediately handed me out something she did, a budget of what everything would cost. I skimmed the numbers—three thousand. Three thousand dollars.

I shrugged, "So, how are you going to raise three thousand dollars?" I asked, handing it back to her.

It hung loosely in the air.

"But you—"

"After how you acted this morning, I'm done. You want this party, you throw it yourself. You do all the work, you put it all together. If we're invited, I'll see you there, otherwise, I guess there won't be a party," I said firmly.

"But that's not fair! You did it for Arthur!" she exclaimed.

"Because he was a respectful young man. He expressed his wishes, and when those weren't within the budget, he compromised to make sure we wouldn't go over. He did end up having to pay for his own chips and drinks, I think fifty dollars total, but that was it. He was smart with his money, and he got a good party out of it," I replied.

"But—But—That's child abuse!"

I laughed. I heard it before I knew it was happening, but I couldn't stop, "Child abuse? I feed and clothe you and send you to school every day it's open, but I'm abusing you because I won't cater to your pipe dreams? You're almost sixteen years old, DW. Grow up," I said, letting the budget drop, "I'm not having this discussion again. Throw your own party or don't have one. I do not care anymore."

The storming up the stairs was expected, as was the wailing. I texted David to let him know I'd held strong, and that DW thought we were abusing her by axing her party completely. He wasn't surprised in the least, but I was. What if she said that at school and people started investigating?

I got a text from Kate asking to pick her up. I grabbed my keys and smiled. Let them come running to see if the spoiled little girl was really being abused. I had nothing to hide, and watching her get knocked down would be satisfied.

* * *

As I expected, I was home the following Tuesday going over expense reports for a client. The doorbell rang and I was greeted by two officers and a social worker doing a welfare check on the home. I invited them in and showed them around. A weekend visit to Sam's Club meant the pantry was overflowing. The linen closet was stocked with several value packs of the kids' toothpaste, as well as more toilet paper than we could use in a month.

Arthur's room was cluttered, but his laundry was in the wash downstairs, helping to ease the man smell of the room. The girls' room was night and day. A blue tape line went down the center of the room, Kate's idea. She liked things neat and orderly, but DW's side of the room was a certifiable disaster area. I'd tried everything to get her to clean, even resorting to tossing her things in a bag and handing it off to the trash guys myself while she watched, yet her room was still a mess.

"My daughter, DW, has to keep her things on this side of the line. Kate doesn't like clutter in her area at all, and I decided to let things go. It was easier that way, easier to inspect that she can still get in or out during an emergency. Otherwise, it's her problem," I said, studying the officers, "I'm afraid the tour ends here. Is there anything else you need to know?"

"How do you discipline your children?" the social worker asked.

I thought for a moment, "Well, the oldest just needs a stern talking to these days. He's twenty and attending Elwood City University, so we just threaten to not give him gas money or whatever. He never does anything major, but I guess we'd threaten to kick him out. The youngest? She's easy. Take away her phone or make her go to her room, and it's the end of the world."

"What about your middle daughter, Dora?" the taller officer questioned.

I laughed, "We do what we can with her. She's a hurricane in the middle of a tornado made from a wildfire. She's always been hard to control—taking away privileges never worked, nor did taking away her things. She has a meltdown every time we refuse to buy something for her. Like, take last week, for example. We're a middle-class family—all those groceries were purchased with a commission check I've waited three weeks for. We get by, but money can't be spent freely or we'd be on the street. She wants me to spend three thousand on a Sweet Sixteen—"

"Three thousand?" the shorter officer exclaimed.

I nodded, "Oh, and that's just the minimum. I told her to do it herself, so she'll either seek out a party planner or try to guilt me into paying for it anyway. She swears it's child abuse, but tell me this: How many kids are starving in Elwood City alone? I mean, most kids don't even have legit birthday parties because money's so tight. How many of them genuinely go without food?"

"More than they talk about," the social worker admitted.

"Exactly, and here she is trying to run the house. I told her I was done. She could put together her own party or do without. Her brother had a party, and we spent five hundred for it. He paid for some refreshments with his own money, but everything else was us. He compromised, and it was a nice get-together. She won't compromise, and I'm guessing you're here as part of her plan. She legitimately thinks we're abusing her just because we're saying no."

"Well, I think we're done here," the social worker said, leading the officers out.

As soon as they were gone, I called David. We agreed that the children had to know, so I sent out the call: Family dinner at six o'clock. If you were part of the family, you had to be at the table. Arthur asked about contributions, and I asked for dinner rolls. Kate asked the same question, so I let her set the table when she got home. I got radio silence from DW, who came home with a chip on her shoulder—she knew her plan was in motion and she was waiting to see how it turned out.

I was plating food as David arrived from his gig. I made him sit down without changing, an order he obeyed. Arthur looked on nervously but finished getting everyone's drinks anyway. We all sat down together around the table.

"Well, isn't this nice?" I smiled, passing some vegetables to Kate, "How was band practice?"

"It was great. That guy who's a jerk to everybody tripped over his own feet and took out a whole section. Coach was pissed because we messed up the field, but it happens," she shrugged, passing the vegetables to Arthur.

I nodded to him, "So, what are you taking this semester again? How's it going so far?"

"I've got biology, world history, and world lit. It's okay," he shrugged, "Got a B on my first test for bio, so that's good. A lot of people failed."

"Hmm, I didn't realize that class was so hard. I remember taking it back in the day and it wasn't as tricky as some of the others," David said, turning to DW, "How was your day?"

"I had a good day at school," DW smiled.

"Did you have a chat with Mrs. Peterson, by chance?" I asked.

DW's smile was maintained, "I did actually. We had a nice chat this morning after second period. I made an appointment and everything."

"That's good to hear. She called wanting another appointment around four, and I told her you would be there. Well, sorry, let me rephrase that, I called her and made you another appointment. I had a little visit today that I thought she'd be curious about, and I just…I had to get my story out there. I mean, my ungrateful daughter gets cops sent to my house with her lies, so what choice did I have?"

"Cops? Like real cops?" Kate asked with wide eyes.

"What did you do?!" Arthur exclaimed.

"She said I was abusing her," I smiled, turning to DW, whose smile had finally faded, "And two officers arrived with a social worker. And they saw my full pantry, and my mostly clean house—clean except for your portion of the room—and they answered the question I had about the starving children of Elwood City, kids who can't even afford to eat. They agreed with me. Wouldn't you believe that? They agreed with me that you were overreaching your bounds. Who would've thought?"

"I—"

"Oh no, it's done, DW. I'm not discussing this any further, period. You're not getting a party, and honestly, you're lucky we even put up with you at all. You never help out around the house, you never do what we tell you, and when we do discipline you, you act like we've poured acid on you, screaming so loud I'm surprised the neighbors haven't called something in sooner. You're almost sixteen, yet nothing has changed. You're still a little baby. Well you're a young woman, and until you start pulling your weight around here, I'm not doing a thing for you and neither is anyone else. If DW wants something, she can get it herself. And we're going to pull the chore chart out of the attic—why are you crying? Isn't this what you wanted? I'm such an abusive mother, DW! I've kept you from growing up!" I exclaimed, but the tears didn't stop.

DW rushed off without permission, but I left it. Family dinner was ruined anyway, the rest of us sitting in silence as DW wailed upstairs. I wasn't budging, and David was onboard. This was just how it was going to be.

* * *

With a distant look, DW asked about the pavilion, and when that wasn't in her budget, she asked about other places in town that weren't as expensive. Now that she was helping around the house and was showing more responsibility, we agreed that she could use the house to host the party as long as she cleaned up after. DW agreed.

The day of the party, DW worked tirelessly until she finally decided to ask for help. Once we had orders, the entire family came together to help put up decorations. Nothing matched the scrapbook, but the scrapbook was in the landfill where it belonged. And her party was fine. Ten friends, some family, and a good time for all.

She wasn't going to apologize for anything, but at least she was trying to do better. I know it's hard for her, but it's just as hard for us. I want things to be better between us, but I know this is just the first of many battles in my attempt to send her into the world with good life skills. I don't know how successful I'll be, but for now, I'm doing okay.

~End

A/N: This is my first piece for the 10x10 challenge. For more info, see my profile. Please note that yes, I am attempting to complete the challenge in November, but you can take however long you want. I'm just crazy^^


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